[Unknown to Ilsa, she was actually quite correct, he's just actually had the barest enough of sense to not say what else was going on. Perhaps being drunk had a positive effect for this...or maybe he's sobering up a little. Such a dream to have while on Ilsa's back...
...
Or maybe it's because he's on Ilsa's back.
Before he was too drunk to really be affected by it but now that he's been forced awake and sobering a little, he's much more aware of things. More aware of her body is moving beneath him, aware of her scent so close to his nose still buried in her hair, the heat at his fingertips, the small size of her shoulders that his much larger hands seem to envelop.
And her picking up the pace does not do him any favors.
So that grip slipping is a miracle as roughly the same time he's trying to let go and lean back while once more reciting every rule and procedure of the Society organization (which honestly comes out as a jumbled, drunken mess in his mind) and he inadvertently pushes back with enough force that he'll just fall right back.]
no subject
...
Or maybe it's because he's on Ilsa's back.
Before he was too drunk to really be affected by it but now that he's been forced awake and sobering a little, he's much more aware of things. More aware of her body is moving beneath him, aware of her scent so close to his nose still buried in her hair, the heat at his fingertips, the small size of her shoulders that his much larger hands seem to envelop.
And her picking up the pace does not do him any favors.
So that grip slipping is a miracle as roughly the same time he's trying to let go and lean back while once more reciting every rule and procedure of the Society organization (which honestly comes out as a jumbled, drunken mess in his mind) and he inadvertently pushes back with enough force that he'll just fall right back.]
—!!!
[Well.
That's one way to kill his thoughts.]